


blood of winter

by ipomea



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Gore, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence, Non-sexual torture, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Stabbing, Stalking, Unrequited Love, literally nothing good happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipomea/pseuds/ipomea
Summary: "Because," Higgs turns on his heel. "This is the only way I can have you.".(or Higgs takes advantage of Sam being a repatriate)
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	blood of winter

**Author's Note:**

> As a warning, nothing explicitly sexual happens, however, Sam isn't exactly enjoying what enfolds. Could be triggering to some, so exercise caution.
> 
> also, this was written in under 3 hours with no beta so it is what it is

Higgs has been trailing Sam through the mountains for some time now. Watching him hand out package after package bereft of his BB. It's like the man's got a death wish. At least for Higgs, it means he can get a bit closer than he usually does. There's no worry of getting caught by the little thing's sixth sense.

It's not snowing, but Sam's decided to rest beneath the sanctuary of a Timefall shelter. Higgs figures it's a rest he's due. How many hours it's been, Higgs can't tell, perhaps a day or two without stopping. He'd already left once and jumped back, only to find Sam guzzling Monster from his canteen as a substitute for sleep.

In times like these, Higgs finds himself forgetting about Amelie and his _role_ in her beautiful plan. He thinks only of one thing: Sam. His head fogged by the puzzling infatuation he holds for the man. Something that takes root so deeply it leaves no room for his thoughts of death and destruction. Yet, extinction feels like something closer to his grasp than Sam could ever be.

Sam is already asleep by the time Higgs makes his way over on foot. Slumped up against the stem of the Timefall shelter, hands over his chest where his pod-child usually rests. Like this, he looks like a carnivorous animal in hibernation. Higgs has the urge to poke a stick into the back of that cave and let Sam's hunger tear through his body.

But it's not the time for that. Higgs takes out his camera instead, the device held firmly in his hands. He really outdoes himself this time, coming in close to map every inch of Sam until he's satisfied. Sam's sleeping face, a few close-ups of his lashes resting against the bags under his eyes, and of course, his gloved hands. Hands Higgs wishes would touch him beset with violence and rage.

It's not at all something committed to a plan when Higgs takes the climbing rope out of a sachet linked to his kevlar. It's pure impulse, something Higgs has never been able to control before. Higgs puts himself on the other side of the Timefall shelter, beginning to wrap the rope around Sam's torso. He starts slow and gentle, wedging a hand between Sam's body and the cord to make a few loops around him. Then he pulls it in tight, tying a nice figure-eight knot at the end.

In Higgs' fantasies, it's always him in this disadvantaged position. Sam finally snapping and doing away with him. Sam's broad hands crushing his throat, or knuckles finding a home in the angles of his face. No knife, no gun, nothing like that involved. It has to be by Sam's bare hands, because that's _love._ As close to love as Higgs will ever get.

Miraculously, Sam's still under the spell of sleep. Higgs thinks it's time for a rude awakening; the sharp edge of his knife buried somewhere in Sam's beautiful flesh. It's hard to pinpoint where he wants to start.

While eyeing Sam naked out in the warmth of a hot spring, Higgs finds himself transfixed on the cross-shaped scar on the man's stomach. He imagines his tongue tracing the spot where the four lines converge, and then he thinks about scoring his knife through all of it. Sam's abdomen coming open, blood dripping down to his pelvis, innards exposed through flaps of skin. Then he imagines pushing past them, winding his fingers deep inside, and feeling the hum of life flowing in Sam's innards.

The biggest barrier between Higgs and the scar is Sam's porter suit. But the way Sam sleeps—legs outstretched and crossed at the shins in front of him—still leaves his stomach open. Higgs isn't strong, never has been, but he finds his strength in the sharpness of the knife. In bringing his arm back behind his shoulder and swinging forward. In piercing Sam through fabric, and a few inches into his gut.

Sam's eyes fly open, full of shock and pain. His body shudders outwards from the wound. Higgs thinks he can _feel_ it through the knife and in his hand.

"What the fuck?" Sam mutters, high and rasping. _"Higgs!"_

The knife comes out with a firm tug, blood starting to leak out along with it. Higgs stops to admire the wound and the darkening of the fabric. Sam tries to wriggle out of the restraints, which proves to be a fool's errand. He stops, submits to the rope, and gazes not at Higgs but close to him. Keeping the face of his aggressor in his periphery.

"No one's coming to save you," Higgs spreads his lips out into a wry smile. "You think they'd risk a rescue team when you can just rise from the dead?"

"Why are you doing this?" Sam croaks, his voice strained with agony.

Higgs stares out at the snow, fingers woven together in front of his abdomen. That's not a question he has an answer to, at least not a pleasant one. Part of him desires to touch Sam, not with violence, but with something akin to reverence. Hands cutting through mist and fog to find Sam's heart like a fluttering bird caught in the cage of his chest.

But his touch could only defile. His touch could only desecrate the lightness in Sam that makes Higgs _yearn._

"Because," Higgs turns on his heel. "This is the only way I can have you."

"Fuck you!" Sam spits a swath of dark red at his feet.

"Ah-ah," Higgs chastises, finding his finger against the edge of his blade.

Higgs cups Sam's jaw in one hand and brings the knife down with the other. He traces Sam's cheekbone caressingly with the point of it, blood dripping down out of the wound like tears. It occurs to Higgs he's never tasted Sam's blood before, even after all these encounters. Higgs brings the gleaming gold to his mouth and his tongue darts over the flat edge of it. He closes his eyes to savour it in earnest.

Sweet, metallic, and rich; the makings of everlasting life. That's what Sam tastes like. Better than Higgs could ever put together in his imagination. He feels the overwhelming urge to taste it from the source, straight from the wound. Leaning down, he angles Sam's face to give him a good access point.

The point of his tongue swipes into the valley of open skin. Higgs wonders how many layers of skin he's pushing past. It's no small wound; his tongue fits perfectly into it, scraping up proteins of flesh along with blood. A pearl of bliss builds up at the corner of Higgs' eye, and then he has to pull himself away before he finds himself divulging in _more_ than this.

Sam's scowling, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight as he bears the pain. Something cut with rage trickles down Higgs' spine. Another awful reminder that the object of his obsession will never be his. Even under the blade, Sam belongs to Amelie. Higgs could trick himself into believing that stealing her quipu—the symbol of Sam's love—would turn it to himself. But in Sam's eyes, all he finds is hatred, seething and bitter.

The knife finds a place below Sam's left collarbone, again and again in the same spot. Higgs frantically tries to dig through the flesh and bone for his heart. So that he may hold it, to feel what it's like. Sam lets out a choked groan, his breath hard and heaving up against the blade. The bound body arches and twists under the knife, muscles spasming against its repeated intrusion. A little more, and Higgs might find that beating organ. But he is weak, mind and body poisoned, so the knife falls from his hands and into Sam's lap. Blood continues to spew from the wounds, bubbling up and dyeing the blue of Sam's suit dark red.

Looking into the scornful pool of Sam's eyes is painful. Alas, it's a pain Higgs must face. Sam won't return the gaze, of course. How could he endure looking at such a repulsive figure? Sam is too beautiful of a thing for Higgs to ever hold. Because Sam is all that is good in this world full of devils and demons looking to claw away the last traces of life.

Sam's falling to the bottom of the sea. Higgs can see it in his eyes, glassy and unfocused as they are.

"Y'see, I wish I was in your place. But it's not the time for _that_ yet. This is the next best thing," Higgs admits with a strangely innocent smile stretching over his lips. "Just a little something to sate my desire."

He feels a twitch of excitement hum through his body like electricity. Sam might be able to hear him, and he's almost letting himself get caught. _Almost—_ because surely, the violent pump of Sam's heart to make up for the blood loss should be enough to drown him out. 

"You're going to kill me, Sam. It's what she wants you to do," he says. "And more importantly, it's what _I_ want you to do."

Like a carrion crow, Higgs hangs over Sam's depleting body and picks up his knife. He needs to jump before the small void out comes, but it's tempting to stay. Drowning beneath the waves of the Seam with Sam, their _ka_ caught up in the cold rushing waters. Dying not alone, but together, even if it's one fleeting moment. One moment in which the object of Higgs' obsession is _his_ alone.

Before the jump, Higgs mutters, "you're the only one who can kill me."

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY


End file.
